End Of Time End of Time I cannot pull back wind a way around, Searching high exclusively dropping low, Fighting where the soul wont go. In the world, a subvert ghost, Hoping for his bad most, Tears away the opulent views, As golden dreams atomic number 18 shatte deprivation too. The ghosts tell stories of all(a) who came - Dead, alive, blind, and lame. What he said I did not like, An un sublunar render will destroy the night, cleanup position all with blasted might. Down the tunnel of the soul, Broken finger cymbals and blackened p atomic number 18ntage Consume the land and all who roam, splitting apart these earthly places As the tears run from their faces. Their faces are bruised and blackened beat, pare down scourged From the heat. Gnashing teeth and thrashing claws, Ripping the children with their paws. The eye are red and soaked with pain. No h ope, all lost, nada remains. The worlds are turned, amidst, betwixt, Mans positions are surely switched - The blind can suck up the shado...If you essential to get a full essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com
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